


Clockwork Chronicles (or, the Hardest Things)

by IrinyaClockworker



Category: Evillious Chronicles
Genre: Apocalypse, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Cannibalism, Child Death, Childbirth, Dysfunctional Relationships, Exposure, Forced Kissing, Gen, Implied Suicidal Ideations, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Mental Health Issues, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Child Abuse, Reincarnation, Self-Esteem Issues, Sort Of, Strangulation, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Underage Kissing, Whimsical Nonsense, learned helplessness, non-graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 19:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrinyaClockworker/pseuds/IrinyaClockworker
Summary: She knows how people look at them.She knows they're wrong.A story of Irina Clockworker throughout her life, and mine.





	1. Luxuria

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pixelized](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixelized/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [Katadenza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katadenza/gifts).



The first time Irina Clockworker kisses a boy, it isn't her decision.

She must be... oh, 5 or 6 at the time, just barely old enough to remember it. He is younger than her, she thinks--though the details will become fuzzy, lost to the overall event and her reaction to it.

She doesn't even have any warning, doesn't know that it's going to happen until it does--he just walks up to her and kisses her. That's it. It lasts two seconds at most, and yet when it's done she's left horrified and confused, wondering why everyone else is smiling and chuckling and talking about how adorable it is.

She doesn't think it's adorable. She thinks it's cold and wet and disgusting and she doesn't _ever_ want it to happen again. But it does, because from then on, every time he sees her, he does it again. Sometimes he just kisses her hand, sometimes her cheek, usually her mouth, and everyone still thinks it's the cutest thing. When she protests, when she tries to talk about it, she's told that she's overreacting and that he's just being sweet. When it actually happens, all she can do is freeze up in disgust and wait for it to be over.

She takes to avoiding him as much as possible, but they always seem to meet again. It takes him a full year before he finally stops, and by that time she is thoroughly disgusted by the sight of him. When he stops showing up as often, all she feels is relief.

Later, she will watch with disdain as Sateriasis-- _Cherubim_ Venomania kisses the women in his harem, using the powers she gave him. He is useful to her, and perhaps she holds the slightest bit of sympathy towards him--but she can't help but wonder how on earth even the brainwashing can compel those girls to respond so enthusiastically.

Every time he comes near her, she turns her medium's face away and hides her hands in her sleeves, just in case.

 

 

Irina has never had an interest in sex. She has no interest in either the male or female form, no interest in seeing them or thinking about them. Yet, she knows what they both look like--the female from her own body, and the male from her brother's.

It might have been the first time she realized something was wrong with him. She hadn't been doing anything wrong--she'd been in his room, rummaging around for something she'd left there the day before. It was early morning, neither of them were dressed in anything more than their nightclothes. Once she'd found what she was looking for, she would have gone back to her own room and left him to his own devices, but he'd wanted to get dressed right then. She'd almost found it, she was certain--in the innocent self-centeredness of a child, she ignored his increasingly angry demands for her to leave, just a minute more, just a minute--and then she found it. And then, and then, she turned around.

He hadn't waited for her to leave, and she had a moment of detachment before she realized what she was looking at and shrieked, scrambling out of the room in horror and embarrassment. She didn't fully understand, being so young, but she knew that she wasn't supposed to see him unclothed any more than he was supposed to see her in such a state. It had repulsed her even then, and had only grown worse as she'd gotten older and learned more about the way male and female bodies were meant to interact--why would anyone want what she'd seen that day anywhere near them? She never did figure it out--she tried not to think about it. But she wasn't always able to avoid it.

Those boys, she remembers clearly. They hadn't touched her, hadn't even come that close to her, but she'd known all the same. They'd mocked her body, how long it was taking to develop--and then they'd gone farther. She still remembered the worst of them clearly.

_"You'll become a woman faster if you're treated like a woman."_

She'd been young, naive, but it hadn't taken her long to understand what he meant, especially when the words had grown more and more suggestive. And then, the boy in purple--no other name, he hadn't needed a name to get across the point. She'd wanted to vomit, but she hadn't. She'd wanted to make them pay. She'd had the power to do so. But she'd known what would happen if she did that--she'd lose the people she called friends. So she'd said nothing, she'd endured it.

She'd wanted to recover, to make sure that she never had to think about such things ever again.

Instead, she's here, next to the empty shell that is her medium, knowing that somewhere nearby, that incomprehensible, oversexed, disgusting duke is toying with one of the members of his harem, and it takes all the self-control she can muster to not eliminate him immediately.

He's sickening, but she needs him.

Once he's fulfilled his purpose, though, she'll move on. Once he's no longer useful, she'll kill him herself if she gets the chance.

Every time he touches her, she reminds him just how much more powerful she is.

Every time he even implies that she might ever join his pathetic group of women, she reminds him that she can kill him in seconds if she pleases.

She can, and she will.

In the end, though, it isn't her who kills him. It's a boy dressed as a girl, a poisoned blade from under a blue dress.

The trapped women come to their senses and flee, and she smiles, feeling strangely empty.

It's not enough, and a part of her knows that it never will be.

The only way for things to end is for her to end.

Until then, she'll just keep on living.

Pretending.

Blending in.

And when she gets the chance to satisfy that slow, simmering anger, it will burst out of her in an incandescent explosion, and she will have a moment of fulfillment--

And then it will be gone.

And she will be all that's left, just like always.

Abyss, Irina, a stuffed cat on an empty shell, neither of them truly alive.

Isn't that just perfect?


	2. Gula

Irina's always had a strange relationship with food. It might have something to do with her mental state, but she doesn't know--nor does she really care. Her mental condition hasn't changed in a long time, so it's highly unlikely that that will change, even if she has physical incentives. She hardly used to eat--she'd go hours without even thinking about food, much less desiring it. When she did eat, she felt sick afterwards. It was no wonder that she didn't want to, really.

Of course, that's less of an issue now that she's in this body, but so much food is still... so unappetizing. Honestly, she can hardly stand the thought of this Conchita, though she's still better than that depraved duke. Vampiress Vanika, they'll call her in the future--ironic, that, seeing as how Banica just wants to eat--it's Irina who loves the taste of blood. It's strange, she knows that, but at the same time, it's not like she actively seeks it out. A bite to her own lip, just absentminded, and then--the sharp, surprising pain, followed by the oddly pleasant welling of blood.

Though, it hadn't started as an absentminded sort of thing. That's not to say it was on purpose--it was anything but. When one's head is about to strike the nearest wall with a bit too much force, one generally isn't thinking about the positioning of one's teeth. Some things just... happen.

She runs her tongue over her lower lip, where the scars had been--not anymore, of course, the Red Cat Mage would not bear the scars of Irina Clockworker. Her old body was long gone. Maybe that was a good thing. She hadn't been particularly fond of it, after all. It had been far too weak.

Banica consumes herself, in the end, after devouring everyone else around her save her own child. That's a level of devotion that Irina can admire--to protect your child as best as possible, no matter what it takes. All she needs, though, is the Glass--and once she has it, it's time for her to move on.

Hopefully the next contractor will be less repulsive...

She feels sick again.


	3. Superbia

Irina has always been special. She knows that. She has abilities that astound the average person, but then again... so did _he._

And his, she knows, were better.

She knows because everyone always said so.

Whether the words physically left their mouths or not, they said so. With the praise they lavished on him, the special attention he received for everything that he did--while she was left standing in the background, watching, wondering if anyone was going to come and tell her how good _she_ was.

Meanwhile, when no one was around, she heard over and over again that she _wasn't_ like him. She wasn't talented or special or worth paying attention to. She was weak, and pathetic, and the reason she cried when he hit her--no, didn't hit her, she only thought it hurt because she was _so pitiful_ \--was because she was so much _less._

That was true, she'd realized, as the world moved on without her and she was left in the dust, wishing she had something to make herself noticed.

The young princess, she has nothing of note. She has no special powers or abilities, yet because of her parentage, everyone treats her as if she is something so special.

Irina doesn't have parents. Only Kiril.

She wonders, sometimes, how things would have turned out if she'd been born as a normal child, with a loving family and a brother who never laid a hand on her.

Riliane has that, though. Even if she doesn't know who her ever-faithful servant is, even if her parents are dead, she'd had the life Irina had been deprived of, and look how she's turned out. At least Irina has self-restraint, knows how to do things properly. She knows when to kill and when to spare, and how long to hold in her anger before letting it loose.

Riliane has none of that, and that's why Leonhart is dead. His daughter, Irina likes. That body is strong, and she wants it. And these days, what Irina wants, Irina gets. She'd missed out on it before, but she _will_ have it.

Since she's begun to suspect that Elluka Clockworker is not who she previously appeared to be, one of her main goals may have become impossible to fulfill. That, in itself, is a great pity.

_Oh, dear sister-in-law. If you really died that day, then what am I supposed to do?_

But if she no longer has that, then she'll simply dedicate herself to the one thing she _does_ have left. She'll create more like herself, more who can understand--she'll surround herself with them, and then, perhaps, she'll feel less empty.

Validation, if it's something she can achieve, would be quite nice.

But in order to do that, she has to keep collecting the vessels.

She can handle that.

She's no longer _just_ Irina, after all.

She is Abyss I. R., and even Kiril would tremble if he were alive to see what his weak, pitiful little sister has become.


	4. Acedia

Irina had long ago learned the art of numbness. Fighting back-- _successfully_ \--was an unreachable goal, in her fragile body, so she'd learned to sit quietly and wait, trying to focus on anything other than the pain. Solving problems herself was an idea that she had learned to scoff at--the idea that she could actually do anything for herself--Kiril had taught her that, bruises on her arms, marks on her face, a red butterfly mark pressed up against her windpipe--yet not a single scratch or mark ever remained on him, no matter how hard she tried. Why fight back if it was never going to do anything?

She'd waited in silence and emptiness, until Elluka came.

Elluka, who had first told her that Kiril was very, very sick. Elluka, who had first asked her to forgive him for what he'd done. Elluka, who had cured him of his illness, wrought a miracle that never should have been able to happen. Elluka, who had taken his heart.

And Irina, who stood in the background, alone.

She's not alone anymore, though. She has Lemy, her son, who she loves more than anything, because he gives her a purpose with his own love for her. To him, she is not weak(she has Germaine's body now, lithe and strong and able to fight with everything she has and more). To him, she is not unimportant. To him, she is everything.

She never meets the sinner of Sloth, not after replacing the corpse of Margarita Felix with the Clockworker's Doll. (She hates that name, hates, hates, _hates_ it--wants to break it apart, smash it into dust. Nothing should have the Clockworker name anymore. Not this stupid doll, not this impostor calling herself Elluka. She'll teach her the truth soon enough.)

But 'Margarita' causes her a good deal of trouble all the same, and in the end it's quite a good thing when she takes her own life. She was becoming much less useful, and eventually Irina most likely would have had to do away with the girl herself... though she had to admit, the idea of ending her own life is... appealing, at times. She's not sure what's kept her from doing it for this long. Some sense that she still has something left to do, perhaps? Or just cowardice, fear of what she'll meet on the other side. Elluka, perhaps. Staring at her with those big, kind eyes, wondering why, why, _why_ \--or Kiril--with his hands wrapping around her throat--

No, _no!_ That's over now, it's _over._ She doesn't have to think about it anymore. She has better things to think about... she has a duel to set up with a certain Magician.

It's time she found out the truth about 'Elluka Clockworker', once and for all.


	5. Invidia

MA envies others' existence. Deep within her, Irina envies much more.

It's not like this is anything new. She's been acquainted with envy since long, long before she-- _they-- **MA**_ \--swapped bodies with the tailor, Kayo. This is the only time she and Kayo will ever meet--the next time she arrives at the Sudou shop, the other woman has already been executed. But then, as the daughter of the demon of envy, she might never have had any freedom otherwise.

Irina has no real connection to envy, and yet she's felt so much over the past years. Envy of the praise Kiril received, envy of the affection given to Elluka, envy of Milky Eights and Ly Li who acted like they were _so much_ better than the weak young girl who stood just behind them--

That hadn't lasted long. 

Of Levia, whose brother could do nothing to harm her. Of Eve, who was loved. Of everyone else who has more than her, everyone who takes their good fortune for granted. Why do they have what she can't? Why do other people get so much more than her? She sees others surrounding her, friends, families, brothers and sisters--and she, she has no one. No one at all. She'd had Kiril, who ruined her, and Elluka, who saved her and then abandoned her--and they're both long dead, now. And then she'd had Lemy, her precious son, who that forest spirit had killed--right in front of her--she'd watched him die, she'd held him in her arms and sobbed as he bled out, more and more of her reason for life leaving with every drop of blood.

Everyone else has _someone._ Irina has _no one._

She visits the head at Onigashima, running her fingers through the hair that used to be Lukana's and then Levia's, and smiles. She knows why Kayo killed those people. Her hands twitch, imagining _the feeling of a firm, toned back against her fingertips, the sharp cry of surprise and betrayal, blonde hair flying out as she falls_ \--and it had been so satisfying, every moment of it.

She'd done it for the children, the desire to have what she'd always wanted--there were more reasons, but when everything crumbled, that was what she had regretted most. She'd wanted someone she loved, someone to love her--and in the end, she had lost them, just like always.

There will be more chances, though. And next time, she won't fail.

This time, she thinks, examining her new body--the Clockworker's Doll, how ironic--this time, she'll succeed.

She doesn't know if she can survive another failure.


	6. Avaritia

Everyone has their desires. Irina just happens to be willing to go a little farther than most to get them.

Of course, these days she's in good company. Gallerian Marlon doesn't care who lives or dies, so long as he can accomplish his goal, so long as he can help 'Michelle'--Irina, inside a doll. (Ironic, that.) He truly does care about her, or the girl he thinks she is--she can tell by the way he smiles when she calls him 'Papa', the softness in his voice when he speaks to her, the promises he makes--the absolute bliss on his face when she sings, _lu li la, lu li la,_ just the way she used to. 

She supposes he doesn't truly love her, but it's the closest thing she can get, isn't it? So she'll take it, and cherish it. At least this time, no one has to die.

She still remembers the choked screams of the prostitute, Milky Eights--pale, slender hands clawing at the rope around her neck, thrashing in terror, eyes begging to _please, please, help, don't do this_ \--struggling growing less visible, face slowly turning blue--and then the few final twitches before she stopped moving entirely, dangling lifelessly from the rope, a rag doll with her tongue hanging out. It had been... satisfying, she'd hated that woman. And it had gotten Irina one step closer to achieving her desires. With the god children, she would have love. As the Queen, she would have power and respect. No one could touch her. She'd wanted to win, and she'd done what was necessary to achieve that. Just the way her newfound 'father' did.

And she _had_ won. She'd stood in front of an awed crowd, thick red robes and an angel's smile, the new Queen of Levianta.

And then, as usual, her brother had ruined everything, his desire for dear Elluka leading him to burn the entire country to ash.

She'd been reborn, of course--a melody falls from her false lips, _lu li la lu li la la lu li la,_ remembering that night and the experiment under the full moon--from a weak body into a better form, and from that taking more and more powerful forms until--

She is helpless now, weak, unable to move on her own. Like before, she is entirely at the mercy of the one taking care of her--yet even though he's a contractor, Gallerian is much better than Kiril, and he cares for the doll he believes to be his daughter.

If he ever finds out who she truly is, though, that will almost certainly change--so she'll just have to make sure that he never, ever finds out.


	7. Ira

It's ironic, really. The same scientist who saved her from her brother's rage is the one who will now lead to her death at the hands of another's. Nemesis Sudou is here for Gallerian, and there's nothing Irina can do to protect him.

She wonders, for a moment, as Nemesis aims her gun, if this is how Kiril felt when Elluka died. Of all the deaths she'd caused, Elluka's was the most painful. She hadn't even meant to do it, not really. She was hoping that she could simply persuade the older woman to give up--but it had gone wrong, it had all gone wrong.

_"You should be the queen," she says softly. "After all, Kiril chose you."_

Yes, Kiril had chosen her, Elluka, over his little sister who he'd hurt so badly, who he owed so much. And in return, Elluka had chosen him--the monster, the one who'd left her in fear for her life, her mind half-destroyed, and Irina was left alone, alone again, the two of them too busy with each other to pay any attention to her. If they had, things might have been different. If they had, perhaps Ly Li and Milky Eights would have survived, perhaps Irina wouldn't have felt that desperate need to become MA. She'd never know for certain.

In that moment, as Elluka had embraced her, Irina had felt nothing but rage. How _dare_ she act so loving now, only when Irina gave her what she wanted? How _dare_ she pretend to care? _'I'll protect you, I won't let you die'_ \--as if she actually cared, as if _anyone_ actually cared whether Irina lived or died--not like Elluka, not like her at all, people would care if _she_ died, _Kiril_ would care, Kiril would suffer--

And oh, she wanted him to hurt the way he'd hurt her. She wanted him to hurt. And in that moment, she knew just how to make him pay for what he'd done--

Elluka's cry of pain sounded like music, in that moment. The look of pure betrayal in her eyes was more beautiful than the finest art. And the sight of her body, crumpling to the ground, made Irina happier than she'd ever been.

And then her mind cleared, and she realized exactly what she'd done--and she started to scream.

 _She'd killed Elluka._ She'd _murdered_ her, and two others, but Elluka-- _Elluka_ \--she'd been kind, she'd saved her, she'd stopped Kiril--

_Kiril._

_He's going to kill me._

And he had, he'd left her broken and bleeding and burned beyond recognition, and it had only been that scientist that had saved her.

And now she's lying here, next to the one person in the world who loves her, and they're both going to die.

 _Maybe,_ she thinks, _this was always how it was meant to be._

Gallerian wraps his arms around her, and she whispers to him until the flames extinguish both of their lives.

She only has time for one last thought, at the end of everything.

_I'm sorry._


	8. Judgement

The Master of the Court sits at the bench, looking down upon all who come before her and declaring each and every one guilty. Only two have ever escaped execution--one who had served her father, one who now serves her. The rest have all been taken from her presence begging for their lives, their cries rising up over the cheery song of the red shoe parade.

The humor isn't lost on her. The fact that she, who has committed so many sins, is now judging others for sins they may or may not have committed--yet, she's inherited the position from her 'father', and she'll continue his legacy. He did her the kindness of loving her, Irina, the unwanted. All she can do in return is try to achieve the utopia he desired, both for herself, and for her 'son'.

Though she's only a doll, she carries life inside her, a young, irregular being awaiting his rebirth. When that happens, the world may begin again--but until then, she sings to him, a lullaby from her former life that quiets his struggles within her body. It's strange, the situation she's in--she wonders if Gallerian would be proud.

The court comes together again, and it's time to search for the vessel of wrath--the golden key, Grim the End, the demon who saved her life and then ended it.

MA is here, the girl known as Waiter, the ill-fated Cursed Gardener as well--the Master of the Graveyard and her two servants, who look so very familiar--and Gear, the soul of Adam, or so it's been said. It seems there will always be someone saving her from a permanent death, won't there? 

But still, the Master of the Hellish Yard holds the key to everything. If that girl takes it upon herself to bring about judgement, then perhaps Irina's spirit will finally perish along with the rest of the world, and this small theater's inhabitants.

She hopes to see her child before that day comes.


	9. Death

When the clocktower's gears stop spinning, the Clockworker's Doll will die.

Irina knows that she should be afraid of death, but she isn't, not anymore. Perhaps it's because she's come so close on so many occasions, close enough to reach out and touch the face of the Master of the Hellish Yard--only to be pulled back from the edge by some miracle.

The first time, she was afraid. Of course she was--she was only a child when it happened. She'd been talking to Kiril, talking about--about what? She never would remember, later. It had been something silly. It was always something silly, not at all worth dying for--not in her mind.

Apparently, it had been in Kiril's, because the next thing she'd known--she'd been pushed up against the wall, his hands tight around her neck, thumbs pressing hard into her windpipe. That awful, choking feeling, trying to get air but unable to--thrashing, clawing at his hands(the way Milky Eights would later claw at the rope around her own neck), trying to scream--strangled gasps--her mouth gaping open, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible, unable to do anything except struggle in a futile attempt to escape--and her vision blurred, her head spun, her muscles burned with fatigue, she had no choice but to stop fighting--

And then, right as the world was spiraling into blackness, he let her go.

She was out the door and away from him before she could even think coherently, collapsing and trying to gather as much air as possible only when she was absolutely certain he wasn't following her. And from then on, if something pressed a little too hard against her neck, whether it be someone's hands or even the collar of a dress, she panicked.

That was the first time she'd faced death, but it certainly wasn't the last.

The next time, she hadn't even been able to feel anything, her nerve endings so badly damaged that the world hardly existed in her mind. She'd laid there, bleeding out, unable to move--and then Seth had come and saved her.

After that, she'd become less and less afraid of dying, until the thought no longer bothered her at all. She's been through so much, lost so many things--how much worse can death be?

So when the gears start to deteriorate, when their rotation begins to slow to a stop, she isn't afraid. The other theater inhabitants, yes, but not her. In fact, she's... happy. She has people she wants to see again, and she's been waiting for so, so long.

She's... tired.

But Gear, the soul of Adam, who'd treated her so coldly, does the unthinkable--to save her life, he tears out his own heart, and binds it to the tower. And the gears continue to turn.

He never leaves the tower again.

But the gears keep turning, and she lives on.

Death will come for Irina Clockworker, but not yet.

For now, she has a trial to preside over.

For now, she has people to convict.

For now, she will keep on living.

And she will wait for the Master of the Hellish Yard to turn the key, and send this theater to its destruction.

_Father..._

_When can I see you again?_


	10. Hell

Irina's body is already damaged when the time comes to give 'birth' to her son, and she knows that the experience will only damage it further. Her doll's body was never meant to contain a child--now that he can no longer simply grow inside her, she is forced to allow him to be removed, in the only way possible.

Gammon and Gear, she trusts. MA is as treacherous as the Millennium Tree is old, and the Master of the Graveyard is as likely to eat a child as she is to deliver it. Waiter... well, she's too capricious to be fully trustworthy. So it's at the base of the clocktower, with Gear on one side and Gammon on the other, that she prepares for the 'birth' of her child--knowing that the damage done will be great. At the very least, this body can't feel pain--so when Gammon slices open her stomach, she doesn't flinch or cry out. She simply lies there, staring upwards, waiting for her son to be placed in her waiting arms--

And then she discovers that there was not just _one_ child growing in her false womb, but _two._ Twins, a boy and a girl, both with tiny, perfectly-formed bodies that rest against her own form, Gear having helped her sit upright as best as she could.

If she was able to cry, she would. At last, she has a family of her own. These two precious babies will love her, will give her the purpose she's wanted for so long. She will hold them for now, until they're old enough to stand on their own, and then she'll guide them as best as possible--she'll be the best mother she can be. And if one of them ever lays a hand on the other, she'll do what no one did for her. She'll protect them.

Her children, she thinks, looking down at the treasures she holds, are so, so beautiful.

Gammon asks their names, and she looks up to respond--

And then the sound of the Clockwork Lullaby pierces the air, and she only has a moment to clutch her babies to her and whisper an apology before there is a flash of white, and the world falls away into nothing.

When next she wakes, it is as a spirit without a body, the pure essence of Irina Clockworker with no facades to obscure it.

It's only fitting that she tries to save the world. If everything comes to an end, she will have failed to protect her children. The way Gallerian looks at his daughter is so understandable, now--she wants to confess to him that she was the one inside the doll, but there's not enough time. One of the endings has to come to pass, and if they don't take control of it, who knows which one it might be?

Her children have fused with Adam and Eve, and they are not the tiny infants she had held so tightly, but they are still her children, and they love her as much as she loves them. Adam rebuilds the theater, and the spirit of Irina takes it as a body, housing the others within her the same way her doll's form had housed the unborn twins.

MA escapes despite her best efforts, and the Re_Birthday begins, her body transforming into a Black Box and reformatting everyone inside it.

Her spirit warps and changes, and she waits to see the results, the new world they've created.

She can't wait to hold her children again.


End file.
